


The Upclimb

by Minkewriting



Category: 80s - Fandom, Glam Rock RPF, Music RPF, Pop Music RPF, Rock Music RPF
Genre: 80's Music, 80s, 80s AU, 80s hair metal, 80s rock, 80s rock au, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, F/M, Glam Rock, Rock Stars, Rock and Roll, Sex Drugs and Rock and Roll
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:07:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25857898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minkewriting/pseuds/Minkewriting
Summary: It's peak 80s glam, and everyone, from the synth-toting new wave romantics to the leather-clad guitar-shredding hair bands, has burst onto the scene, full noise, full party.In the heat of 1984, one band of women are on the come up, their minds full of determination (and their sky-high perms full of hairspray). But being a female band in the chauvinistic centre of a culture dominated by groupies and cock-rock is not easy. A string of events, including a lineup change, a subsequent rebrand and the chance as the best support act a rock band could ask for, sends a ripple through the band's world, and life is about to change forever as they skyrocket into success.But how does one traverse the sexist rock industry as a female? Oh, and navigate potential love in the process of it all?
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Male Character, Reader/Original Male Character, You/Original Male Character
Kudos: 2





	1. That Night

The bar was packed. A steady carousel of party-goers was funnelling in and out of the doors, everyone eager for a drink, and you watched it all from the upper lounge. You were feeling a bit special, to be honest, sitting up on the balcony above the main bar, a space reserved for only very important people. And tonight, you _were_ very important, having just capped off the gig of a lifetime. Briney Beat had seen your band, Treasure Hill, playing with the likes of Slate and Great Expectations. You had made record sales this year, yet the invitation to join the lineup of the mega-concert threw you way off guard. Now, with a rum and coke in your hands, you were trying to ease out of the adrenaline of the night.

"Perk up, love, what's got you down" Beverly loomed over you, disturbing your casual observations. "Nah, she's cruisin'," Sarah chimed in. Sarah, your best mate, was lying back in her chair, hands folded across her legs, empty drink on the table. She was a people-pleaser. Loyal as all hell, and practically liked by everyone for her laid back attitude, she was a marvel. She was the coolest in the room, except for her time onstage. When she was behind her drumkit, she became a thrasher, opting to warm up by play everything in double time. Sarah, without a doubt, was the coolest person you knew.

Beverly, on the other hand, wasn't cool. She was always animated, and didn't possess the ability to "chill". But we loved her. "She isn't cruising, she's a bore. Where's Michelle?"

And Michelle. If you had to place a guess on where she was, it'd probably be at another guy's feet. All of you, aside from smooth Sarah, who never approached anyone, yet probably was propositioned more than anyone, liked to play the flirt and enjoyed yourselves. But Michelle teetered on the kind of sad end. There's nothing wrong with going after a guy, but Michelle always insisted it was for business and more than often, would leave the band high and dry. But, she was our frontwoman, and she wasn't attracting good business - it was only time before we got famous enough for the press to want to drag our name through the dirt.

"Shit, I don't know. As long as she's not in the bathrooms." You chimed in.

"Oh, you're mean," Sarah said but she was grinning.

You smiled back. "Hey, just trying to save our careers before they start."

Suddenly, Sarah leaned forward. "Hang on now, I think you're forgetting that we just played the biggest rock lineup of the season. No way will Treasure Hill get a bigger concert this year. We're fucking lucky."

"We were like the tenth act," you countered.

"eighth but that's beside the point." Beverly and you broke out into giggles, and Sarah chuckled, obviously not as indignant as she's making out. "You've got to admit that was fucking awesome. C'mon, admit it."

Beverly beat me to it. "It was fucking awesome!" She stood up, swaying a little. You couldn't tell whether it was from alcohol or just Beverly being Beverly.

"Yeah, it was awesome. I believe we really got our name out there."

"Oh my GOD, stop thinking of business. That's it, let's move."

Sarah laughed, but she stood up. "Where to?" you asked, standing as well.

"Biggest night of our lives, let's live it."

'You want to hook up tonight, don't you," Sarah quipped and you lost it, falling over in laughter.

Beverly's faces fell as she tried to backtrack. "No, I think we need to live this night to the fullest. This only comes around once!"

"Yeah, you're right." You shrugged. "This could be it. Once in a lifetime opportunity—" You began but Sarah cut you off, now beaming.

"—to try it out on a room full of literal rockstars!"

Beverly slapped a hand over Sarah's mouth. "Be. Fucking. Quiet, we could be heard."

"So you admit it?" You teased, and you almost lost it again when Beverly threw her hands up.

"Whatever. Let's go mingle. And guys? Shut the fuck up"

Trying not to piss yourselves, you and Sarah followed Beverly away from the balcony and back into the main throng of people. "Beverly, where are we going?" You asked but she seemed distracted. Her pace had quickened to the point that you guys were struggling to follow her, muttering weak apologies as you pushed through the thick crowd. Then, out of nowhere, she stopped in her tracks, leaving you to almost tread on her heels.

"It's just too crowded, let's move." Turning quickly, she dragged us to the wall. She had the right idea, there were fewer people against the wall, and we were no longer drowning in the thick of the mob. "Where is— god— do you reckon we're findable? Findable? Is that a word?" Beverley was babbling on at this point, still searching eagerly in the crowd for god knows what she was looking for. "Maybe we should head back—Brian!" Her shout pierced over the crowd, making a couple of the groups around you look your way. You looked up to see one of these onlookers sporting a colourful leather jacket, and you realised that the patches on his jacket read "Rogue Division". You scanned your eyes back up to his face to see what he looked like and accidentally locked eyes with him who seemed to be amused. You looked away quickly, trying to hide your blush. You hoping he was laughing at Beverly, and not at yourself. You tried to move on, drawing your attention back to your group. "I am so glad you found us, it is packed." Beverly chirped.

"Hell yeah. It's a sweet night." Brian grinned. "How are you guys? Ya played well, you did," he huffed with a lazy smile, alcohol beginning to take its effect.  
You beam back at him. "Damn, what about you? Great Expectations play good shit."

"Great shit," Sarah added.

"Why, thank you, ladies," Brian said, slipping his arm around Beverly's waist. 'We do our best." Brian, as you and Sarah had discussed on many an occasion, was definitely trying to get into Beverly's pants. They'd been friends for a couple of years before Treasure's Hill's late '82 debut, and shockingly, neither had made a move on each other, even though both were the type to ask around. It was perplexing. However, Brian was putting in some effort these days to woo her over. Thing is, Beverly enjoyed it and talked about him a lot. One of these days they were going to work it out, but right now, it was borderline infuriating that they didn't just get together.

"So, where's ya leading lady?"

"Oooh... that's a great question," Sarah joked.

"Yeah, where do you think?" You ask.

"Okay, hearing you loud and clear. Michelle can't speak for herself coz her tongues down some dude's throat," Brian said, to which he earned a gasp and a slap from Beverly.

"Hey, what about your band? You're alone, which makes you their 'Michelle'." You and Sarah laugh at Beverly's sharp retort.

"Hey, I'm no lone ranger, the guys are just back there. C'mon, come say hi." And with his arm still around Beverly, he led you guys back through the crowd until you reached a huge table where at least a few bands were sitting. As we arrive, a bunch of the guys turn around and greet us with a chorus of "Brian!"

"What's up, guys! Got a seat for us." Brian said as he tapped a hand on the table.

"Where'd ya find the chicks?" Someone shouted from the other end of the group.

"Hey, these chicks are Treasure Hill." You realise the answer came from one of the guys from Horizon. Horizon was arguably one of the biggest bands of the night, if not the biggest. They were hot - not just popular, but physically, and you were, if you were being honest, you were enamoured with them. You weren't sure if you wanted your group to be like them or you were drooling at the charisma of the band members.

"Ahh shit yeah, didn't recognise them without Michelle. Where's she at?"

"Don't ask," You shook your head. You could feel the second-hand shame bleed in as the guys looked around for your flakey friend.

"Your name's accurate, 'cause you guys are real treasures." The pickup line gets the boys raising a chorus of "Woah". The voice was the same one coming from the other end of the table, and as you scan your eyes down the seats, you realise it's the same leather-jacketed guy you met eyes with before.

"Yo, you ain't smooth, dude—" One of his bandmembers jokes but the first guy cut him off.

"Hey, I'm saying these girls are treasures coz they play well. Chill out." His words sound reassuring, but a smirk is plastered on his face.

"Sure you are Sid," his bandmate taunts and the whole table erupts in laughter.

You don' think the joke is that funny considering it's about yourselves and besides, you're still standing. "So, you guys gonna let us sit?" You asked strongly, breaking up their mirth. As the noise softens, you watched some of the groups share looks, none more animated than Horizon's frontman Slick Turner. He chuckled and then leant forward toward your group.

"Ha! Strong presence. I like you. Come sit with us."

His invitation caught you off guard for a second, but you quickly snapped out of it and sat down. You couldn't have helped it, you were star-struck. This night felt like a fever dream - playing in the evening as part of a huge rock entourage and then hitting the after-party only to be invited by uber-famous (and uber-charming) Slick Turner. You quickly sat down, taking the seat next to Horizon's guitarist, Gene Davidson and tried not to stare at anyone. Keeping your expression toward only your bandmates, you were sure that no one had noticed your star-struck moment.

"We don't bite, yo know."

Shit.

You turned toward Gene, trying to keep your cool, even though you knew that at least one person had caught me freaking out in their presence. "Didn't think you did. Isn't that against your image?"

He looked amused at your remark. "What d'ya mean?"

"You guys can't go around being violent. It would scare off the teen girls and then you'd have no audience," you blurt out. As you fight back at the blush threatening to rise, Gene remains silent, but his eyes stare into yours, a smile tugging at his lips. Finally, he broke the eye contact and clasped his hands, sighing.  
"You are..." He didn't finish his sentence, and suddenly dread washed over your body. You had somehow, in your awkwardness, become rude. But then he looked up at you again, and he was smiling wide. "That was good. I see why Brian likes you guys."

"Oh, he definitely didn't take a liking to us because of me, but yeah, Brian got us picked up, we owe him lots."  
He leaned forward, still maintaining that piercing eye-contact. "He's got good taste." Something about this felt...more than friendly. You don't think he was talking about the music anymore. You stopped the intense staring contest to look him over truly for the first time. Shit. He was cute. His hair was fluffy, and he had big dreamy eyes, which were in such contrast to a strong jaw. And his smile was just that bit cheeky. You scolded yourself for being distracted by the front-man to never get a good look at his guitarist. If he was coming onto you... well, you must have been fucking dreaming now, because this was too good to be true. His eyes were captivating, and his lips were so plump, you couldn't help but cloud your thoughts with infatuation.

Whatcha staring at?"

Shit. SHIT.

You came out of your daze to be met with knowing eyes and an amused smirk. "Something on my face?" You both knew he wasn't truly asking. "You can loosen up you know."

"I..." You were at a loss for words.

"You know what I think?" And with that, he scooted closer, dropping an arm over the back of my chair. "You need a drink. Let's get one." Warmth finally flooded back from your face into your chest, and you bit back a smile.

"Sure, just give me a sec." You turned to your friends, who are engrossed in conversations of their own. Beverly, sitting across the table, was locked in a discussion with Brian, Slick and Paul of Second Heaven. You doubted that you'd be able to drag her away from that group even if you wanted to. Sarah was closer, but she too was in a conversation, with Scott, Horizon's drummer, and Evelynn, the keys player from Second Heaven. You leant over quickly, murmuring in her ear, "I'm going to go get a drink."

"You're leaving for a drink?" Sarah raised her eyebrows at me. She then glanced between you and Gene, who was waiting patiently beside you. A look registered on her face. She seemed to know something you didn't, and she was very amused about it. "Alright. Just get back here soon. We aren't losing two band members in one night."

"I'll be back, I promise," you grinned. Turning to your new friend, you looked past him into the practically pulsing crowd. "Where to?"

"Follow me." He said, and you made your way to the bar. At one point, he noticed you starting to get lost in the mob, and you instinctually reached out for him as you would for my bandmates, so he pulled you close to him. When you got to the bar, he insisted on ordering for you, and you sat down while he ordered, catching the attention of the man on the stool next to you. As you looked over at him, you realised this was leather-jacket guy.

"Hi there. Or hi again." He grinned. He was inebriated, yet he happened to appear attentive towards you. To be fair, he remembered you from across the room.  
"Hi," I said shyly, "you're from Rogue Division," you stated plainly, not knowing what to say.

"Am too. And, as I've learned, you stunners are from Treasure Hill." He tilted his head, and his huge mop of black hair fell over his face, but he remained unbothered, casually flipping the entire thing back over with his hand.

"Yeah, we are," you replied, blushing. You forgot about Gene as you began talking to leather-jacket guy, charmed by his confidence. But then Gene slid your drink over to you and gestured to leather-jacket guy. "Hey, Sid. Long night?"

"Gene, how are ya? You know this one?"

C'mon, Y/N, let's go."

You turned to say goodbye to leather-jacket —or Sid, as he was named— but you snapped back quickly to Gene in disbelief. "You know my name? I—I didn't even introduce myself—"

"Of course I do. Good to know the name of the best talent in the building." For the second time, he threw me into shock. His remark sounded genuine. He looked at me pleasantly and held his hand out. "C'mon." You took his hand. Before this night, you had promised yourself you were here for your band and your band alone. You had worn mostly black tonight so that you wouldn't stand out- though perhaps a leg-baring miniskirt wasn't the most subtle choice but damn, you couldn't care less, you looked good. You guys had just been criticizing Michelle for leaving you, but as you walked away from the bar, Sid now a blip on your radar, you realised you were just as bad as your frontwoman. Sarah had been cool with you galivanting off with the guy, but still, you felt guilty for your hypocritical behaviour. At the same time, you were incredibly distracted by Gene's hand, which was still holding yours, and it was hard to think about your moral errors when a handsome guy was paying you attention.

You tried to work out why he was now hurrying you away from the bar. You held your drink close, scared to drop it at the speed you were moving. "Where are we going?" you asked. As you said it, you came out of the crowd to meet the edge of the room. "Um, sorry, can you explain what's going on?" Gene turned and leaned against the wall. Your hand in his was as warm as your face.

"Just had to get you away from Sid." He replied.

"What, can I not talk to any man I want?" You argued. His face fell. Sighing he dropped your hand, replacing it behind his neck.

"It's not like that. Sidney, he's bad news. He...look he's a good mate, but he's got a... reputation around women."

"And you don't?" You replied. You were feeling confident - but at the same time, you were floundering as you reminded yourself over and over just how famous the man in front of you was. He chuckled.

"Why do you say that?"

It was your turn to laugh. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe because you're a big rockstar, and women throw themselves at you?"

"You're calling me a player yet here you are, still talking to me. Wouldn't that make you one of those women?" he said, then quickly adding "I'm kidding," when he saw your unimpressed expression. His face became serious as he retook your hand in his. "Y/N, I know you don't know me, but that's exactly it. I'm not like Sid. You don't know me. But," he continued as you returned his sentiment with a scrutinizing look, "I'd like to get to know you."

You softened at his words and took another sip to hide your yet again flushed face. "So, how would you go about getting to know me?"

Gene dropped your hand again but he stepped closer so that your bodies were almost touching. "So... correct me if I'm wrong, but sounds like you want me to make a move on you." You kept your eyes on him but you didn't miss his hands finding your waist.

"I'm not drunk enough for this," you said, taking a sip of your rum and coke. He tilted his head, and without missing a beat replied.

"Good thing I got you a drink then." You almost choked at his response. He grinned. "And speaking of drinks, I left mine at the bar. Never picked it up. See, I was kind of focused on this girl..."

You couldn't help but giggle, finally letting down your stoic façade. Gene had got you hooked. You were very glad Sarah wasn't here to see you like this. "Yeah?" You feign innocence, "was she cute?"

"Hell, she was," he murmured into your ear. His voice was significantly huskier and it was doing something to you. "I'm gonna go get that drink. But," he pulled away from you, "I'm dropping you back at the table. I'm not risking Sid stealing you away."

"So you admit it, you were jealous," you teased as your grin widened, a smile peaking past his lips as well.

"Okay, maybe a little, but that was only part of the reason. C'mon."

"You don't have to babysit me you know," you complain.

"Trust me, I do not think this," he gestured between you two, "is babysitting. That would make my thoughts about you very wrong." Shit. Your blush returned and you couldn't make eye contact as you walked back. Gene didn't seem to mind though, he was thoroughly enjoying the conversation.

You arrived at the table and said a warm "see you soon," to Gene, who winked before heading to the bar. Sarah, who was talking to Dave, synth player for Horizon, dropped her conversation and turned instantly as you sat down. "So, where have you been?" She prompted, mirth bubbling underneath the surface of her words.

"Got a drink," You reply, trying to stay neutral. You wanted to blurt out everything, but gushing about a guy when his bandmates were in earshot was not a good idea. Plus, you didn't want to give Sarah that satisfaction.

"Took you a while."

"Yeah, the bartender took his time," you lied, eyes locked on your drink.

"Why's your glass pretty much empty then?" She asked. All you could do was say "shut up," prompting her to laugh hard, patting your leg underneath the table. "Good for you. So, are you gonna tell me—" But her question was cut short as Michelle came sauntering back to us, finally emerging from god-knows-where she'd been all this time.  
"Guys! I have had fun tonight!" She smirked. We could only shake our heads and smile. "I was with Dennis of Renegade. Dennis Dixon. I can't believe this night."  
"Good for you!" Sarah patted our visibly tipsy leader on the back. "Glad you've enjoyed yourself. It's been a fantastic night, hasn't it Y/N?" She continued, looking pointedly over at me. All you could do is nod, silenced by Sarah's teasing.

"I'll say. Dennis has been...ahem...great," Michelle laughed to herself. "...Real great. Definitely my favourite of the night."

"Oh my god, multiple again Chelle?" Sarah whined, as you shared a look, stifling your laughter.

"Ohhhh yes. Before Eric—oh my god, Dennis was—Dennis was amazing" Michelle sidetracked and I considered giving her my seat, unsure of just how wasted she really was. "Before him, I made out with Gene Davidson! Geez, he's hot."

My blood turned cold. I turned my attention to the table, heat flooding my face. A hand on my leg told me that Sarah was apologetic. Michelle continued on, oblivious to my disengagement. "But Dennis, my god, he's got magic hands," she said, bursting into a fit of giggles.

"Guys," you say, your voice now croaky, "I think I'm actually done for the night."

"Thank god you said that." My head snapped up. "I've had enough too," Sarah said. I knew she didn't mean it. I couldn't ask for a better friend. "We're gonna end the partying here. Night everyone, have a good one." You said your goodbyes and made the small walk over to the hotel that all the bands were staying at. As you walked into the room, Sarah squeezed your shoulders."You doing okay?" She asked. You sighed heavily and sat on your bed.

"I don't fucking care, I really don't. Damnit," you said, flopping down onto your back. "Michelle can do what she wants. I just... didn't want to be second, you know?" you continue, staring up absentmindedly at the ceiling. "Damnit. Damn. He was so cute though. Fuck. A Horizon guy. I've got to e dreaming. Damnit."

"I know, I know. I completely get that. C'mere girl," she offered her hand, which you took and she pulled you into a hug. When she released you, she took your hand. "Yeah, that fucking sucks. But let's be honest, how good could he be if he went and hooked up with Michelle while she was in that state?

"Hey, she's gorgeous when she isn't trashed," you laughed. "The worst part is I still feel guilty that we just up and left. He was coming back. He was gonna get his drink and come back..." you trailed off, sitting in silence as you contemplated the night's events. Sarah wasn't having any of it though.

"Babe, you know what your gonna do? Forget him. Let's get two bottles of wine sent up, and let's drink until we drop. Yeah?" She crossed her legs on the bed, and rocked forward, hands on her knees. She wasn't going to take no for an answer. She was giving you this look that meant," if you don't say yes, I'll do it alone." You couldn't help but laugh at her goofy grin, and it brightened your mood a bit, taking the burden of the near-hookup that you would have surely regretted out of your mind.

"Yeah. Yeah, fuck, let's do it," you laughed with your friend, who cheered in celebration of winning you over. "I love you, you're great, Sarah."

"No, you're great," she returned, dancing across the room to grab the phone. "You're great. Now let's get us some room service and get smashed."


	2. Michelle

**Two months later**

"Where the fuck is she?"

Gary, our manager, was storming through backstage, striding down the hall on a mission toward the dressing rooms.

"She isn't in there, we checked," Sarah huffed, shifting on the stage box she was lounging on so that she could swing her legs back and forth, rhythmically kicking the box. Three-quarters of the band were currently feeling lethargic. Our fourth band member, Michelle, had gone missing, less than two fucking hours before the show.

To say we were pissed was an understatement.

“Fucking always. How the fuck did she get away?” Gary said, passing us to look through the wings. In half an hour, people’s were going to start filling the venue. “Are the mics good? Are they sorted?”

”Mic check went well, chief,” Mick, the techie, answered.

“Except for Michelle, she didn’t turn up for it,” Beverly added, rolling her eyes.

“Well, I fucking know that, don’t I? Can’t turn up to soundcheck when you're fucking missing,” Gary spat.

“Woah, don’t fucking take it out me,” Beverly responded, jaw clenched. I tapped her leg in reassurance, as Gary spun around to face Beverly.

“Yeah, you’re right. Sorry, Bev. Sorry, all of you. I can’t believe she’d do this again. To leave you girls high and dry on this night...I’m sorry, I have to say it, but your bandmate is a fucking imbecile.”

“You’re not wrong, don’t apologise,” I said. The other girls nodded, throwing him sympathetic smiles. Everyone was feeling it. How should we have reacted when Michelle didn't turn up to soundcheck for the third time? I felt more sorry for Gary than our band. It was his job, his business to know where she was; his career depended on his client performing well at each stop on our small interstate tour. Us? Well, yeah, we’d tank if Michelle didn’t show up this time, but she’d pull through. She made it to the performance on time the last two occasions, though the second time Gary almost blew a blood vessel when fifteen minutes prior she showed up in the wings, no costume, no hair and makeup, no microphone prepped. The sound boys performed a miracle that night live-tuning her mic to the correct volume during the first couple of numbers we performed.

"God, she's the lead. Her of all people—"

"It's exactly why she does it. She can get away with it," Beverly scowled. It sounded harsh but it was true. Michelle was the frontwoman and daily, she was responding to the attention she got, particularly attention from men. The band used to laugh about it. She'd always have a story, something crazy she'd got up to. But never before had it got in the way of the band. Now that she was blowing off the very job which gave her the chance to have these wild nights, it was no joke anymore. Not to the rest of you. But intervention had gone down the same way every time the band had tried. Michelle insisted that she'd just lost track of time, that it wouldn't happen again. It was really hard to argue with someone who didn't see the bigger implications. To Michelle, she was just late a lot. To you... in all honesty, you were beginning to think she didn't care for the band. It certainly wasn't her priority anymore.

"Ahh shit. Okay. Okay!" Gary had returned to pacing. "Alright, here's what's gonna happen. Mick," he pointed up at the sound booth, "get the boys to fix up her mic. Just have it ready to go when she gets back. And girls," he turned back to the three of us, a pained expression on his face, "I'm sorry to ask this, but can you look for her again?"

"Jesus...Alright," Sarah grumbles, but she got up anyway.

"Don't complain, we need her here. What would you guys do without your singer?"

"Honestly," Sarah says, glowering, "we'd just smash up—"

"Save it. Be backstage at five-thirty, and please to god, search everywhere."

We shared a look before mumbling alright. Beverly headed for the backdoor. "You reckon she's out there? You know Gary would probably blow a fuse if his talent went out unsupervised." You asked.

"Well, she's not in here, is she,? He wants us to find her, so we'll do that We'll be back in time." You shrugged and followed her out.

"Man, what could she be doing at in the afternoon? The bars aren't open." Sarah complained as we traipsed up the streets of the North Side.

"You know very well what she can get up to at this time—at any time. But guys, I think I know where to find her," Beverly turned around, stopping us. Did you see that guy she was with, earlier? Shocking hair—long but, like, flat—no, it was like it was deflated—big nose?" 

"From the bar last night?" You asked.

"Exactly. 100 bucks she's still with him—no, not literally, I'm not paying," she wagged her finger as Sarah reached for her wallet.

"And how does that help?" You look at her sceptically.

"Check our hotel room—she's got to have left his address somewhere, right?"

"Fair point Bev. You're smart, ya know?" Sarah jokes, to which Beverly playfully hits her shoulder.

20 minutes later, you fumbled out of your hotel into the parking lot. "Shit, dude, how did she not leave an address?" Sarah groaned.

"To be fair she was a little...occupied last night," you giggled.

"Occupied or out-of-her-mind intoxicated?" Sarah snorted, and you clapped her on the back for her reaction.

"Both!" You grin, but your smile falters when you see Beverly's unamused face.

"Guys, I don't know how you can be happy when we're gonna have to turn up and tell Gary, 'no, we didn't find our singer'."

You sighed and reached for her arm, hugging it close to yourself. 

"C'mon, Beverly, he knew that we probably wouldn't find her. Now, let's not get in trouble ourselves. We can make it back in time for styling."

"Yeah, yeah, I guess—OH!" Beverly gasped. And without a word of explanation, she took off, heading for a red Camry. You looked over at Sarah, who was looking majorly confused. You opened your mouth, but before you could ask if you should follow, her shrill voice sounded out over the parking lot.

"Michelle, get the fuck out of this car."

In a second, you and Sarah had joined Beverly at the car's backdoor. As we peered into the open door of the Camry, we saw the dude Michelle had been with last night, a pack of Marlboros, an empty bottle of red and Michelle herself, both individuals spread out across the backseat. With an hour and a half to performance, she was shitfaced.

And you were pissed.

"Michelle, get your sorry ass out of this car," you said. Your vocalist registered what you had said because she turned over and groaned. Beverly was done with Michelle's shit. She grabbed her by the arm and yanked her out of the car. Michelle tipped forward, unstable on her feet, but Bev shut the door, leaving the passed out guy inside, and propped Michelle up against the closed door.

"Ow! Fuck..." Michelle was very unmistakably drunk. Gary was going to kill her.

"You're going to fucking cop it Chelle. You're coming with us."

"Hang on, can I just...lie down? Yes..." Michelle murmured, seeming to answer herself as if she were another person, as she began to slide down the car toward the pavement.

"No, you fucking asshole, we've got a show." Beverly was not one to get pissed—not like this anyway. You almost felt bad for Michelle. Almost.

But Treasure Hill still had a concert to play.

You and Beverly shouldered Michelle's weight for the walk home, throwing her arms around their shoulders and pushing her toward the venue. The three of you had taken the guy upstairs to Michelle and Beverly's shared hotel room, feeling guilty for leaving him alone in his unlocked car. Sarah had written a note explaining where he was and then becoming anxious that he wouldn't read it, wrote another, putting one next to the couch and another on the kitchen bench alongside his keys. Then you guys booked it to the venue.

On your walk back, Michelle stayed silent. We didn't know if she was hungover or if she just knew better than to talk. You figured it didn't matter. Instead, you guys kept up some conversation, weirdly calmed now that you'd located your bandmate. "How'd you know she'd be in that car?' Sarah asked.

"I remembered that car. The red one was hard to miss. I'd seen her leave the pub last night, and she was talking to the guy—yeah, the one from before— who was leant up against it. Figured it was his," Beverly explained.

You patted her shoulder with the arm that wasn't holding up Michelle. "What would we do without you, Bev?"

"Perish," she deadpanned, and you all erupted into giggles, keeping the topic lighthearted as you walked toward the venue and Michelle's death sentence.

***

Turns out Michelle wasn't drunk, just hungover. The bottle of red had been drunk late last night, not this afternoon, and apart from a killer headache, which she'd be fighting for the rest of the night, she was fine. You guys forced some aspirin down her throat and warmed up, and she came around, not performing at her a-game but not giving away the fact that a couple of hours earlier we'd found her passed out in some stranger's car either.

However, the performance was just a tiny inconvenience as compared to what she had coming from Gary.

As we thanked the audience and walked backstage, we were feeling the buzz of performing but as Gary came walking up to us, our good moods were slashed.

"Girls..you guys...you pulled it together in the end," he began. His words were sugar-coated though. You could feel his irritation ready to spill out at any moment. You hung your head. "But—"

There it was.

"—We could...ahem...approach some things differently in the future. Can I speak to Michelle alone please?" Sneaking a glance at your friends, you could see the others wince. You nodded, and the band, sans Michelle, quickly headed for the dressing rooms.

"She is going to hear it from him," You said, pushing open the door. As you entered, you found a small light in the darl. Seeing Treasure Hill scrawled on the front made you smile. You were finally making enough waves that you were awarded VIP treatment, like a room with your band's name on the entrance. I didn't want success to get to my head, but you had to admit that some of the new fame perks were pretty cool.

"What do you think he'll say? Do you reckon he'll put her on twenty-four-hour watch?" Beverly asked. Sarah scoffed.

"Sure, he _could_ do that. She'd find a way around it though. Charm the guards maybe..." she trailed off, kicking back on the couch. You and Beverly sat at the vanity and started removing the thick makeup you toted every show. "So are we going out tonight—" But as she spoke, one of the roadies knocked on the door, asking us to find Gary. "All three of us?" Sarah asked, and he nodded, disappearing back into the corridor.

The look on Gary's face was grim. This was not going to be good news. "God, I was joking about the twenty-four-hour thing, but this looks bad," Beverly whispered into my ear.

"Guys, I...I don't know how to go about telling you this, but we need to talk really seriously about Michelle's position in the band," Gary said, hands folding in front of him.

None of us said anything. Then finally, Beverly spoke. "Are you going to restrict her freedoms or something?" She wasn't fighting him, she was genuinely asking.

"No girls. I think...ahh, this is hard say... what I think—I'm not saying you have to, but what you should consider—we've got to think what's best for the band, for the success you're finally achieving—" He was rambling to avoid saying it, and by now, you had an inkling of what he wanted to suggest.

"Gary. Tell us." You said firmly. He appeared to come around at that.

"Okay. What I'm suggesting is that you drop Michelle from the band."

We fell back into our awkward silence. What do you say to that kind of extreme solution? What do you say when that's your friend and integral band member he's talking about?

What do you say when it's slightly true?

"Look, I know that's a bit shocking, but truly, I think she's hurting the band."

"She's not hurting the band, she's just..." Sarah tried but trailed off when she realised she has no excuse for Michelle's behaviour.

"Just what? She's been either drunk or hungover every day for weeks, and she's always late — and that's if she turns up at all," Gary spouted, his hands waving as he became more frustrated.

"She's only missed three shows," you responded, while Beverly frantically shook her head, saying, "it's not like that all the time."

Gary interjected. "Only three shows, yes. But how many rehearsals?" He gave a scathing look toward Beverly. "It's not all the time, but it's most fucking times. How many does it have to be before she fucks things up for good? Well?" He asked when we couldn't give him an answer. "Am I recognizing something that you aren't?"

"Can we give her a warning? Please? Give her a chance to turn this around," Beverly begged. Sarah and I said nothing but both directed beseeching looks at Gary. 

Gary sighed deeply and put his head in his hands. You shifted awkwardly from foot to foot. Finally, he raised his head. "Fine. Fine, yes. But this is an ultimatum. If she fucks up again, I will be speaking with you guys again and I won't be as forgiving. Alright, guys, you're good to go. See you tomorrow."

When we returned to the dressing room, Michelle was sitting on the couch in the corner, mascara-heavy tearstains dried on her cheeks. We dared not ask what Gary had said to her. You returned to taking off your makeup, sitting in silence. You tried not to ruminate on the subject of Michelle's possible termination, but in the unforgiving silence, your mind couldn't help but wander back to it.

Suddenly Michelle exclaimed from her corner. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to get you guys in trouble." Hearing her in distress tugged at your heart, and you left the vanity to go to her.

"Michelle, look, it's all good," you reassured her.

"But it's not!" She shrieked suddenly, "I fucked up. Even Gary said it, to my face."

"Gary'll come around, he's just stressed over the concert almost going wrong." Sarah swung around in her chair to speak. Michelle huffed.

"Let me remind you that it was MY fault!" She wailed and began crying again.

"Look, Chelle," you say, hugging her close, "take this as a chance. Just make sure you show Gary that you're committed."

"Yeah, but...he won't see anything different," she sputters. Her teary doe eyes made her appear so vulnerable in the dim lighting of the dressing room.

"Of course it will. He'll be on your side again if you stop showing up late. If you won't do it for him, could ya do it for us?" You ask.

"Yeah, Chelle, we love ya, no one has any bad feelings. We just want you to turn up for Treasure Hill," Sarah adds.

"I can do that, I can," Michelle sniffed and finally she smiled. "I promise, I won't let you down again."


	3. Changes

**2 weeks later**

There was a knock on the dressing room door, and Gary burst in frantically. He was almost in tears from frustration, and it wasn't often that he'd visit us in our dressing room, preferring normally to get a roadie to fetch us.

"She's fucking done it again. Can't find her anywhere."

You hearts sank. From the atmosphere that entered the room with Gary, you knew the others felt it too. This was the beginning of the blowup. You couldn't look Gary in the eye, and focused intently on your hair instead, teasing it to high heaven.

"Did you know anything about this? What is she doing? Is she trying to sabotage this?" Gary jabbered, All three of you continued getting ready, scared to speak. "It's five-thirty. You know that right? Did you have any plans?" He wrung his hands together, and then wiped the sweat on the sleeve of his plaid top.

"Y/N can front," Sarah spoke up.

I snapped my head to her, as did Gary. It was something the band had talked about before, what would you do if Michelle didn't turn up. After some joking discussion, the group had come to the conclusion that you would sing lead. You and Beverly were the group's main writers after all, and you did write a significant section of the melodies, so you knew most of Michelle's parts. The girls actually argued that your stage presence outdid hers because I was hampered by holding the guitar twenty-four-seven. While they were right that a lead guitarist could transition easily to lead singer, you objected their assumption hard. You had chalked the conversation up as an extreme reaction, something that the band would never actually have to pull through on. And yet, with Michelle nowhere to be, two weeks after her warning, here you were.

"Will she?" Gary question, eyeing me. I was tongue-tied, mouth going dry.

"She can. You've heard her sing, you've watched her play, Gary. She'd just be taking both sections now," Beverly argued.

"Hold on," Gary shut her down, "You've said that, not Y/N. I don't think I can trust you guys to thrust her out there, we should probably just cancel the show."

"No, I'll do it," you answer, surprising yourself.

"Alright!" Sarah said, clapping me on the back.

"You will?" Gary said in disbelief, "You will? Y/N!" He kissed me on my head, "You! You! Thank fucking god. If you pull this off, I'll get you whatever you want. A fucking car even. Oh my god. Okay, I gotta run and let the techies know it's shows on. My god, Thank you." He says one last time and rushes out the door.

You had seen the look of desperation in Gary's eyes, and you trusted your own groupmates with everything important. Besides, something in your brain was telling you to do it, as if deep down you wanted to prove that you cared more than Michelle. But you loved Michelle, why would you think like this? It was sick thought, a stupid one, and as quick as it appeared, you buried it right back down from the dark place it had come. 

"Y/N!" Beverly grabbed my shoulders, "You literally made Gary's day. You're such a legend for doing this, you know?"

You laughed but you were embarrassed all the same. "C'mon, I only did it so his head wouldn't explode," you joked. "I should probably get out there and get the mic configured, seeing as I'm now singing at the front. Can you please hand me my jacket?"

"Your  _ jacket _ ?" Beverly exclaimed in disbelief. "No, girl, you're going to want something a little hotter than that. Your leading woman tonight." She's beamed at you, and a grin was slowly creeping onto Sarah's face. Beverly rummaged through her bag, and then chucked a black shirt at me. "Put that on instead. Keep the jacket off. Trust me, you'll look the part."

You shook your head at your eager friends but obliged, tossing your long-sleeved shirt to clothe yourself with the new top. You pulled it down and rushed over to the vanity. "Guys..." You trail off. The top was a halter neck tie-back shirt, and the neckline was just low enough to look pretty sexy. Suddenly you recognise it. "Isn't this your "guy-magnet shirt, Bev?"

She grinned widely. "You betcha it is. Frontwoman material." You finally caught on and grinned back.

"Okay, I see what this is," you laughed, rolling your eyes., "I'll be hot tonight. Gotta represent Treasure Hill after all,' you remarked and the group burst into giggles.

With just minutes to go, and Michelle still not anywhere to be found, Gary was now giving the band a pep talk side-stage.

"Again, I'm so sorry to do this to you. But the thing to do now is to forget about Michelle and get out there. They're gonna wanna know where she is, so you have to say something. I'm asking you to lie, please. For god sakes, whatever you do," he rambled, flapping his hands about as the stress took over, "don't let them know that she's missing and potentially shitfaced. God, the tabloids would have a field day..." His face contorted as he began imagining the worst.

"Look Gary, we'll just do our best," Sarah reassured him, "and really, it's Y/N who you should be sorry for."

"No I'm fine. I know the material. I'm afraid I may flub the guitar lines when I'm singing at the same time, that's all," you told them honestly.

"Yeah, but we'll be backing your vocals almost the entire time," Beverly smiled warmly, rubbing your shoulder.

"Yeah, they even set a microphone up by my kit," Sarah nodded. Sarah usually wasn't mic'd up, something we'd kept the same from the days when we played small clubs. At that point, playing as a quartet cramped on a small stage with Sarah's drum set, we had forgone the fourth mic, because it mostly picked up her playing and not her voice. But now, we had the tech, a much bigger stage and we were missing a singer, so we'd want Sarah's voice for layering.

"I know you well girls, so I can trust you. I wouldn't let you on if I couldn't guarantee __ that you  _ will  _ be great," Gary said, smiling for the first time since Michelle had missed set-up at four o'clock. 

"For the record, Y/N, you look hot," Tim, one of the roadies spoke up from further down the wings. He was met with laughs from the crew, to which he gloatingly asked, "Am I wrong?" He was answered with more laughter and many of the other techies nodded enthusiastically. All you could do is blush and smile at him, while your friends were elbowing you in ribs, excited for the new attention you were getting - and probably delighted that they correctly predicted that your new outfit would get a positive reaction.

"Alright girls, we're about to go to black. Get out there, smash through the first song and then let them know that Michelle will be absent. Can you do that? Don't answer, I know you can!" He pulled us into a huddle. "Get ready," he grinned, saying something he'd started saying all tour, "we're going live."

The lights dimmed slowly before dropping to full black. You and Beverly pulled your guitar straps over your heads and then, patting Sarah on the back as she walked upstage to her kit, you walked out together. You hadn't realised you were shaking until you ran your hand through your hair. The weight of the task had now finally sunk in. But this was not the time for nerves. You took some deep breaths, and then before you could think too hard, you played the first notes.

The twang of the first power chord sounded out over the crowd, and the audience went wild, ready for the show. Sarah counted you in with her sticks and then the lights went up and you played, losing yourself in the song.

Finally the song came to the end, and you came down from your music-high. As the audience settled, you walked slowly forward and picked up the mic stand. "Hey, guys! How are you you doing tonight?" You asked and the crowd broke into cheers again. Well, most people. The powerful lights focused in on the stage kept you from seeing too far out over the audience, but you could definitely see some wavering expressions, likely confused at the lack of your frontwoman. It was time to explain it. "I want us to have a really good time tonight, don't you?" You asked again, trying to ease into it. "Okay, I'm going to have to be honest with you. Our vocalist, Michelle, is suffering from a nasty throat infection, and couldn't make it tonight." You lied. A sound of shock rippled through the audience and you felt the back of your neck prickle as your dread sunk in. "I—I know, it really sucks, believe me," you continued, trying to gain favour with the still murmuring crowd. "But...but we couldn't cancel the show. Not on you guys. We didn't want you guys to miss out. So, tell me, are you ready for a fun night?" And to your relief, the crowd went nuts again. 

As you approached the fifth song, you—and you couldn't believe this— were performing really well. Better yet, the audience hadn't made a fuss, probably disappointed but at least sympathetic for the to-their-knowledge sick Michelle. But then as you hit song six,  _ "Make or Break", _ performance anxiety finally made its appearance. The riff was one of the more difficult in your catalogue and you didn't know how you were going to sing while playing it. As you began, you looked out at the audience, of who many, thankfully, were swaying with the music. But as you made it to the chorus, you just couldn't sing efficiently while you concentrated. You had to step away from the microphone and concentrate on hitting the right notes. The girls covered for you, singing harmony over the chorus, but you were mad at yourself for letting the song slip. However, you played the riff confidently and came back in at the verse, singing as confidently as you could.

As the song finished, the lights faded to black, and you looked over to the wings, worriedly searching for Gary to try and gauge his reaction on your poor performance. You found his bearded face fast, but as you looked over, you were shocked when you realised that standing beside him was none other than Michelle. Thinking fast, you stepped away from the microphone and ran into the wings.

"What are you doing back here?" Gary spat frantically. "You need to get back out ther—"

"Can Michelle finish the concert? You pleaded.

"It would be ideal," he agreed, "but Y/N, you told them she was suffering from a severe throat infection. Which was the right thing to do, believe me, you handled that great. But what are they gonna think out there when Michelle pops out there just fine after all?" Your heart sank. "You're going to finish the concert. You're doing a fantastic job, I promise. Seriously."

"You actually are, I caught a group in the front row saying that you sang better than Michelle," another roadie spoke. You looked gratefully to him, but your attention was quickly stolen by Tim who was throwing you a very knowing smile.

You blushed and flicked a glance at Michelle, who looked crestfallen. Your heart went out to her, but admittedly, you were no longer feeling half as self-conscience as you had seconds ago when you'd come begging to switch with Michelle. Your ego had been inflated, spurred on by the roadies — okay, mostly Tim's — kind reassurance.

The crowd was starting to get loud, probably wondering what was happening again. Gary gripped onto my shoulders, bringing me face to face for another pep talk. "You've got to get back out there. Sorry, I won't let Michelle on stage—unless..." he pondered, and then snapped back to life, an idea brightening his features. "Genius! Bring her on stage for the final number - You won't sing, Michelle—no, just bring her out to say hello and we can spin this into a good thing. Think about it, the audience sees Michelle—to them, it seems that your kind and great leader still came to support even though she's sick. Would you do that for me, please?"

I looked at Michelle, who was on the verge of tears but she gave you a small smile and nodded her head. "Okay," you returned the smile, and then ran back on stage to the deafening crowd. "Alright, this is " _ Ghost town _ !" You shouted, and you jumped back into the music.

You finished the concert experience all manner of feelings. On one hand, you were ecstatic that you'd not just got through the show, but had a hell of a time playing tonight. You hated to admit it, knowing it was only temporary, but the rush that you had got from being in the front and being able to interact much more with the audience was near-euphoric. However, that dread started to creep back in as you remembered the crisis with Michelle. Try as you might to forget it, Gary's threat to fire Michelle was looming at the back of your mind. "We need to talk in fifteen," Gary whispered into your ear. You nodded at him and rushed off to the dressing room.

Like last time, Michelle was there, circled up on the couch.

"Michelle, you gotta tell us. Is there something going on here? Why have u skipped concerts and practise  _ and  _ schedules?" Beverly asked, sitting beside her. You and Sarah hovered by the door, unsure how to feel.

Without hesitation, Michelle responded, "I don't think this is what I want to do anymore."

You were shocked. "What? The band?"

"Yeah," she answered, hanging her head.

"Chelle! What do you mean?" Beverly asked, her voice pitched up as she became emotional.

"I mean..." she faltered, "...I mean that this is what I like doing but I don't think I can continue. Sure, I like it. I do. But as a hobby, not a job."

"But..but..." You stuttered, lost for words.

"Where's this coming from, Bev?" Sarah asked, her coolness also shattered. "We never knew until now."

"I—I know you didn't. It's recent, I can promise you. But the thing is..." she began to tear up. "I want to do other stuff. I want to travel—I want to model."

"Model?" You questioned, wondering if you had heard right.

"Yeah. I was offered a contract"

"Contract? Chelle..." Sarah's faced contorted into confusion. Beverly's face clouded over as well. We were all wondering the same thing — was this Michelle's resignation?

"I've known for a while but I didn't know how to tell you. You know I love fashion," she looked pointedly at Beverly who nodded slowly, "and I've had so much fun working in the album and the photoshoots, and I talked to this agent at a party—I know you think I'm a trainwreck, but I really have been trying to network as well."

"Michelle..." You try to speak, but what do you say to such a revelation?

"Look, guys, I'm really, really sorry. I've been the worst bandmate. You don't deserve me. I think it'd be best if I were to move on and not drag you down with me. Treasure Hill is reaching new heights after all," she said sheepishly.

"Yes, Treasure Hill! Us—you and us together Michelle!" Beverly squeaks. She's also on the verge of tears.

"Beverly, don't cry, this is good for both of us,"

"But I brought you into the band. You're a fantastic vocalist, I had to have you in Treasure Hill. We love you—and so do the fans! You're the lead, for god sakes. The fans know you. What would we be without you—"

"Hold on, Bev," Sarah cut in. She was stood unnaturally upright, stiff and unmoving and she was talking stoically, almost as if she'd become a robot. She may not have shown it like anyone else, but you knew what it meant. Michelle had got to Sarah's heart and now she was hurt. "If she wants to leave, don't force her to stay."

"Sarah," you say quietly, reaching out for her with my arm, astonished at what she's saying. Sarah is not one for conflict.

"Michelle, if you think you should leave, I won't stand in your way, and guys, I don't think you should either."

"Sarah, you can't be saying that—" Beverly cries, but Sarah cuts her off.

"I won't tell anyone what to do, but I think we all realise that Michelle knows what she wants," she finished.

Your throat felt tight. This conversation wasn't just uncomfortable. It was almost unbelievably cold. You wanted it to be more emotional, you wanted Michelle to do something terrible so you could dismiss her justifiably. But this was how Michelle was going: she would be leaving you instead; she had grown apart; the partnership was just going to fall through. You had thought about her position in the band for the last couple of months, with Gary's threat of termination clear in your mind. You had imagined how he was going to let her go. None of the things you fantasized seemed good. But this was worse than anything you could have imagined. There was no "bang and it was over" moment. Instead, you were witnessing an era fizzle out. It felt suffocating.

"Sarah..." the tears in Beverly's eyes were now rolling in fat drops down her face. She didn't really have anything to say. This was just heartbreaking, and she wanted it to end. You did as well.

Finally, after a deafening moment of silence, Michelle spoke and you witnessed her confidence falter. "How will I tell Gary? I can't—I."

"We'll tell him together, Chelle," you hugged her. You didn't know when you would get to hug her again.

"Guys, bring him now," Michelle stated.

"You sure?"

"You really don't have to, Chelle," Beverly whispered.

"I want to speak to him," Michelle stated firmly, and Beverly backed down. Sarah fetched Gary, and you sat down for the melancholy conversation. Michelle relayed everything she'd just told the band to him and when she was done, the group sat down in silence.

"I...In all honesty, I don't know what the next step is. Shall we help you pack your bags?" Gary finally said.

"Hold on, Gary," Sarah cut in, to your surprise. "I said I'd let Chelle go but I've got one request." We stared intently at our unpredictable bandmate. "Let her finish the tour. There are two more shows."

Gary considered it and then nodded, "Yes, that's completely fine. In fact, that will be better for the press." 

Michelle fidgeted. "I'm not sure."

"You said you were a bad friend. You want to redeem yourself, you'll do these shows. For us." You couldn't beat Sarah's logic. By the end of the night, we were all friends again, and Michelle had agreed to perform the last two shows.

You guys had got very hammered that night, no thanks to the emotions you were trying to fight, and the night became a bit of a blur. But what you did remember was the bright smile on your bandmate's—now ex-bandmate' s—face as she thanked you for being the best friends she could have asked for.

***

"Do you wanna dance?"

You were at yet another afterparty but this one was different. To most of the crowd here, this was your tour's closing night, but to Treasure Hill, it was Michelle's final night with the band. After this, you would all pack up and go home for a small break from music — but she'd never come back. To say you guys were a little down was an understatement. And in the usual fashion, Michelle had morphed into the crowd, chatting up some other 20-something-year-olds. But you gave her a pass this time, it was her last night. You only hoped that you'd somehow meet her again at one of these get-togethers in the future.

The person who was asking you to dance was Tim, the roadie. You'd been getting a little closer to him. He was tall, blonde and best of all nice. He complimented your looks a lot, fetched things for you, and was always looking out for the band, listening to the audience and bringing back good feedback. Maybe he was just trying to kiss up to you because he wanted to bed you, but frankly, you didn't hate the attention—in fact, you loved it. It had been a while since you'd been with someone who actually attracted you as much as Tim and though he wasn't necessarily exciting, he also wasn't unpredictable or out of your league as a certain someone had been 5 months ago. If nothing else, he was good company.

"No thanks, Tim. I would like a drink, if you would come and get one with me," you counteroffered.

He smiled at me. "Don't think about leaving that seat! What do you want, I'll get it for you."

You giggled at his charming behaviour. "Well, seeing as your offering, a martini will do right now, thank you."

"No problem. I'll be right back," he smiled and walked off for the bar.

"I'll be waiting," you called cheekily after him, to which he turned once more and grinned, before returning to his route. You sank back into the seat, relishing in the first moment of peace you'd had since this morning. Today had been an explosive rush, fun, but intense. This was your first real tour and it had been every bit the rollercoaster you had anticipated. Thus, you took the opportunity to space out for a moment.

A few moments later Sarah and Beverly emerged from the bathrooms. "Ooh, where's lover-boy disappeared to?" Sarah teased as the pair sat down next to you in the booth.

"Shut up," you sniffed. but you couldn't hold back a grin. "He's not—look, you can't say that when we haven't done anything!" Sarah and Beverly descend into laughter.

"Bitter much?" Sarah snickered.

"Hey, leave her alone, she's only cranky because he hasn't given it up."

"Shut up!" You squeal, "That's not true, he hasn't even offered yet!" That statement only cracks them up more. While you're recovering from your hysteria, Gary saunters over.

"Girls! I'm glad I found you together because I have some NEWS for you," he beamed. He was his usual fidgety self but this time, the huge smile on his face was an unmissable sign that he was happy, and not the usual anxious.

"News?" You ask, wiping your eyes from the tears that had fallen from your intense laughter.

"Oh hell yeah," Gary grinned, teeth gleaming in the fluorescent lights of the club. "Get a load of this. A couple of booking agents were at  _ that _ show. The one where Michelle was out. Well, one contacted me and he's here tonight!" You all sit up in our seats. You don't know what it could mean, but by Gary's reaction, you know that it's bound to be something good for the band. "His name is Brian Millers, and he's already been tipped off to the fact that you're moving forward without Michelle. He thinks it could work, he really does. I talked you up, I'll have you know, but he has all these ideas for rebranding." 

"Yeah, so what does that mean?" Sarah asked as the three of you leaned in.

"He wants to work on your image to make you the best possible band AND he's going to make you an offer you can't refuse. Seriously, this is big stuff. I'm going to go get him so he can explain. Prepare yourselves. Seriously, prepare yourself" He pointed back at you as he disappeared further into the club. At that moment, Tim came back with your martini. "Here ya go, my lady," he winked. You took it from him, mentally cursing out your friends. He had definitely heard your bandmates sniggering behind you.

A few moments later, Gary came bounding back with a dark-haired man in tow. "Let me introduce you to Brian Millers." The man jumps right in

"Hi, girls. It's nice to meet you. I'm going to cut to the chase—I saw you perform as a trio a couple weeks ago, and I thought you covered it really well. And then, Gary here told me that Michelle was stepping down indefinitely. Girls. This could be big. Losing a member is not always good. Losing a front-man is a tragedy. BUT in your case, we have a chance here to stop you from falling off. What you've got to do is rebrand yourselves. Now, this is serious. If you want success, you're going to have to drop 'Treasure Hill'."

Beverly cut in, frowning. "Hang on, what do you mean, drop Treasure Hill?"

Brian nodded enthusiastically. "If you want success, you've got to start afresh with a new name. Treasure Hill will always be connected to Michelle even though you've moved on. Let's come out brand new - new frontwoman, new name. We'll work on the image to match the new sound that you'll have now that the vocalists have switched."

"But we've been on the climb as Treasure Hill, we'll lose it all and have to start again if we take a new name," you complained.

"But I'm not going to let that happen to you. We'll make sure that all Treasure Hill fans will come on this journey with you." You had to admit, he was really selling this. "And here's the best part! Oh my goodness, you're going to love this," he leaned back like he was also in disbelief of what he was telling us, "This is just—seriously. This will make sure that you've got all eyes and ears on your new band. I'm going to give you the chance of a lifetime."

By this time, Gary was also holding back elation. Seeing him like this, you knew it  _ had _ to be as good as Brian was making out to move your cynical manager. And frankly, you just needed Brian to spit it out. Sitting on the edge of your seat was giving you titanic nerves.

"I've got you the best supporting gig. You can't get bigger than these guys," he flashed a gleaming grin. "You guys, formerly Treasure Hill, will be opening for Horizon."


	4. The Rebrand

You choke on your drink. "H-Horizon?"

  
"I know! This is the score of the century!" Gary exclaimed.

  
You swallowed awkwardly, and then feigned excitement. "Oh, yeah. Yeah! They're super big!" You hoped that you sounded genuine because you certainly weren't feeling it.  
"You know it! This is going to be incredible for you girls," Brian said, clasping his hands. You three nodded enthusiastically, but out of the corner of your eye, you could see Sarah staring you down. You shifted uncomfortably, settling down a little further from Tim, who was listening in, unbothered. "So, what do you say girls? Will you start afresh as a new group? Would you do it for Horizon?" He looked expectantly down at you. But everyone stayed still. "Oh, I see. Don't worry you don't have to decide on the spot, I'll let the band have a little chit chat, but I just assumed, with such a big opportunity at stake that no one in their right mind would turn it down." You could hear the slightest twinge of judgment in his voice.

  
Beverly frantically jumped in. "No, no, we love the opportunity, we really do. It was just...the name-change thing has kind of been sprung on us. May we just talk it out for a couple of minutes?" She asked politely. Brian's face brightened immediately.

  
"Oh, of course. I see why you had such long faces. Here I was thinking that you hated Horizon." Hate wasn't the word for it. What you were feeling was a very weird discomfort at the notion that you would have to face Gene after running out on him. How would you explain that? Would he even care? Maybe he didn't even remember you. You didn't know what would feel worse.

  
"I'll leave you now. Will you be ready to speak again in say...half an hour?"

  
"Yes, that should be fine," Beverly answered.

  
"Wonderful. I'll see you soon girls." He turned to leave, Gary at his side but then whipped around again. "Aha, I almost forgot! We've got a working title for your new band name. It's Jet Dames," he said, flourishing his arms. "Just think on it," He said at our sceptical faces. "I'll be back in thirty."

  
Tim leaned into you, squeezing your shoulder. "That sounded awesome as hell. Horizon, man! I'm gonna go find Pilecki and Dan, I'll let you guys have your band-only meeting," he chuckled.

"You don't have to go—"

  
"Nah, it's cool," he said. You mustered a small smile for him, grateful for his understanding.

  
"Well..." Sarah began, as Tim walked away, "that was..."

  
"I mean...guys this opportunity..." Beverly trailed off as well. You could see that they were feeling caught in the middle of your weird feeling towards Horizon.

  
"We have to take this," you stated firmly.

  
"Y/N—" Sarah reached for you, but you brushed her off.

  
"No guys, we honestly really should. He's right, this is big!" You emphasised.

  
Beverly exchanged glances with Sarah. "And that's definitely okay with you?" You had filled her in on that weird night you had had sometime later in the week it had happened, so she knew just what was running through your mind.

  
"Guys, it's water off a duck's back. I don't have a reason to be upset. It's not like I even did anything. Nothing done, nothing to regret," you reassured them but you were lying. You had gone two months without thinking about him but the minute he was mentioned, it snapped back. It wasn't even a painful memory, it was just hazy as if a thick fog had dropped down on you every time his name was dragged to the front of your brain and clouded your thoughts. You tried to shake it off. Perhaps this could be closure, you thought quietly, but another part of you saw straight through this thought.

  
"Did you hear the name he chose? Jet Dames?" What kind of feminine bullshit is that?" Sarah scoffed.

  
"It was just a working title, Sarah. We could change it," you remarked.

  
"I do like Jet though," she answered.

  
"I do as well," Beverly added. "What if we went with something similar?"

  
You leaned in. "Do you have an idea?" You ran your hand through your hair. "We can't go on stage as the Dames."

  
Sarah chimed in. "There is no way would we get anywhere with all these blokes out there if were called something so girly."

  
"Well, if we wanted something a bit more masculine, how about Jet Fame? Or Jet Lane? Sorry, that's just rhyming, I'm terrible," Beverly coughed, embarrassed.  
"Hang on, Bev, you've got something there. Jet Lane..." you tried out the name.

  
Sarah folded her arms in thought. "I don't know...what does it even mean?"

  
"I think it could mean...like us, we're jet setting—no, better, we're in the fast lane to success!"

  
"Oh my god, you're so smart—we're in the fast lane to the top!" Beverly cheered. Sarah said nothing, but nodded in approval, a smirk on her face. "Wow. This could work. Okay. Jet Lane. Jet Lane!"

  
"Okay, settle down pixie, we gotta make sure Brian likes it too," Sarah said.

  
"But you're in?" You asked, your smile growing.

  
"Yeah, let's go with it. It's cool, and we won't sound like damsels in distress."

  
"Hell yeah! Okay, I know it's dumb but do you wanna, like, raise a toast?"

  
You chuckled at Beverly's enthusiasm but you raised your glass. "To Jet Lane."

  
"To Jet Lane," The girls repeated, and you drank, laughing together once again.

  
You soon quietened down again though, when Sarah brought up a good point. "Will you be able to play and sing every night?"

  
You sighed quietly. "I'm not sure guys. I don't know. I'm going to have to, aren't I?"

  
"Hang on now," Beverly interjected, "let's talk with Brian. We can't pass this up." And you agreed.

  
Brian eventually came back with Gary in tow, and to your surprise, he liked the name. "Yeah, that could work...that could work. It's definitely catchy, and you make a good point, that'll keep your name ambiguous on those Horizon tickets. Audience won't know what to expect—probably not a bunch of girls." That remark caused the three of you to frown, but he quickly explained, "no, that's a good thing, 'cause you guys will knock their socks off, and they'll leave loving you." You turned to each other, but you couldn't fault his logic, and shrugged, nodding up at him. Besides, he knew what he was doing if he was booking bands like Horizon.

  
"Um, Brian..." Beverly looked nervous. She was going to ask about our performance woes. "We were discussing, and we really want to take the offer, we do," she stopped, unsure how to continue, and at that, Brian nodded, "but...we're unsure how we are going to play all the parts without four people."

  
Brian narrowed his eyes and tilted his head. We prepared for the letdown. "Girls!" He exclaimed. But he was laughing. "That's your worry? I have connections everywhere, I can get you a new bandmate or even touring members. Don't even worry about it. Is that what you want, a new member?"

  
You looked at the others and they shrugged. "It's up to Y/N, she's the one with the new workload," Sarah explained.

  
"Y/N? We can audition another girl if you want," Brian told you.

  
"I...Can I still play lead?" You asked, scared of the answer.

  
"Y/N! You can do whatever you want! It's your band! We could have the new one play everything and you sing and if you want to take the solos, you take 'em! Whatever you want, sweetheart."

  
Your confidence grew at that. Brian was affording you so much liberty here. With all the help and money he was offering, you simply couldn't turn it down. "You know what? That sounds great, thanks Brian."

  
"That's no problem at all girls," he laughed, a full, deep-belly laugh, "I'll shop around. In fact, is there anything else you want me to organise. Sarah?" You looked over and saw that the normally chill Sarah was fidgeting in her seat.

"Well..." she looked unsure, but sat up straight, her normal coolness returning, "we've always been curious to work with a keys player. Just to round out the sound."

  
"Done!" Brian breathed enthusiastically. "Girls, I'll get you the best in the business—because I want you to be the best in the business. Seriously, I'm going to make the next years big for you."

  
Both Tim and Michelle made their ways back to you guys throughout the night. Both were excited for you, and Michelle astonishingly took the name-change exceptionally well. "It's okay, that means that Treasure Hill is our history—we'll be remembered forever as us four." This felt like a much better note to end on than the dressing room sob-session. You smiled warmly at her, good to be on the same page again. Gary, who had been talking to a couple of well-dressed women, came back to your table and sat down for the first time all night. "I'm so glad you said yes, I'm looking forward to working with you. Those ladies over there—Mary, Lisa—are publicists. I'll probably hook you up with them sometime soon. But anyway, the fun stuff. I've had some appointments on standby in case you took up the offer."

  
"Appointments?" Sarah looked pointedly back at him. He just grinned.

  
"Oh yes, appointments. We're talking styling, record producers, sound guys. We are going to help you put on the best opening show ever."  
"Wait a minute, what do you mean styling?" Beverly asked, a gleam in her eye.

  
He clapped his hands together, very pleased. "Monday, at ten. I'll send cars to pick you up. Deborah is going to make you look like stars!"

  
And that's how you ended up standing in a giant office with racks upon racks of clothes, all setup today for Jet Lane. And in the middle of it all, a small lady with the most gorgeous dark curls you had ever seen, a red knee-length tight dress and huge hoop earrings.

  
"Hi, I'm Debbie!" The lady introduced herself. "You and I are going to have a lot of fun." She smiled, teeth gleaming. "So let's jump right in," Debbie said. The band just stood there nodding, a little bit stunned at the high volume of clothes now available to a band who were used to just buying nice things from big shopping malls. "I like what you girls wear now, but I'm thinking we go a little bit more 'superstar'. You know, you guys want to reach peak success, so you should dress like you're already there! Also," Debbie smirked, lowering her voice, "if you guys still want to up the sexy, I'd be down to style you in some new stuff."

  
"What do you mean 'still want to go sexy'?" You eyed her suspiciously.

  
"That top you wore as frontwoman told me you do, girl," she laughed contagiously.

  
"How does everyone know about that?" You exclaimed in disbelief, as your bandmates fell into giggles.

  
"The pictures, hun, the agents do their work," she laughed, escorting us over to a rack of leather and velvet and silk. "So, where shall we start, darlings?"

  
None of you said a word, too busy ogling the mountains of clothes. You snapped out of your daze when she tapped on the rack, making a clang sound when her rings hit the metal. "Um, just a new jacket would be nice."

  
"GIRLS!" Debbie suddenly shouted. "You can try on anything you want. Money is not an issue, this is all yours!" The three of you tried to hide your wide-eyed expressions, caused by what she said as much as it was by her volume. "And, Y/N, girl, you will not just be getting a new jacket," she repeated. "Okay, well we have a starting point!" She pulled out a number of items and shoved them into my arms. "Tank tops. You're going to want heaps. trust me, I know it's hot at the venues you're used to playing but just wait until you're outdoors in the summer, or under stadium lights. You're absolutely going to die if you don't ditch the jacket mid-concert, so your shirt should be stylish too. Oh, you don't need to keep holding those, set them on the empty rack. These are for you to try on!" She explained with a shine to her eyes.

  
None of us talked from that point on, but we didn't need to. Debbie kept us occupied, explaining all the trends we would want to be following and handing us piece after piece of clothing to try on.

  
"Leather, girls, leather. Trust me on this, it's coming in and it's hot! You're each going to want jean jackets, and we'll get Susanne to sew some patches on - we're thinking we get "Jet Lane" across the back, maybe a logo on the sleeves. Shoes! We'll get you some Chucks, or those new Nike shoes, would you be interested in those? But what you're really gonna want are boots. Oh my goodness, girls, we will have you in some killer heels. I promise you, they'll finish off your looks perfectly."

  
And then for the first time in like two hours, Debbie paused, and put her hand to her chin, dropping deep into thought. "Girls..." she spoke, head down, "...we've come to my favourite part," and she raised her head once again, a gleaming smile matching shiny eyes. "Accessories!"

  
And she went into a whirlwind, loading our wrists, necks and ears with beads, buttons and jewels. "And hats, girls, at least try a hat." For the record, you were pleasantly surprised to take a liking to a chic Baker Boy hat. "Gorgeous," Debbie had remarked, "you're gonna look like that bitchin' Madonna chick." You also picked up at least 6 new pairs of earrings, gloves, a hefty amount of bangles, bracelets and all these other things that you hadn't known the name of but thought looked cool as hell.

  
You were surprised at how considerate Debbie was of the members' individual tastes. She made sure we tried everything but if you really didn't like it, she wouldn't force you into it. You'd said no to the Mary Janes she had suggested would help that Madonna look (you had thanked her but politely explained that you didn't want to be Madonna's doppelganger) but were very happy to accept a three-set of pumps in green, magenta and an extra-gorgeous crimson.

  
Finally, once you had finished trying on every halter neck, every acid wash jean and an abundance of bright colours, Debbie squished the last pieces onto your rack. "Okay, you are all set! So," she smiled expectantly. "What do you think?"

  
"Debbie, you are incredible!" Beverly screamed. "You totally understood everything I want! That pink suit—Oh my god! And all the lace—Debbie, I know we've only just met but I love you," she beamed, shaking from joy.

  
"Yeah, Debbie, you've done a fantastic job," Sarah nodded.

  
"Oh, girls, I've had a great time. I'll have everything sent to you, don't worry. Glad you've had so much fun!"

  
You talked over each other trying to express your gratefulness for her work, but she brushed it off, reassuring you that it was no problem at all. "Really, Debbie, thank you. When did Gary say he'd want us?" You asked. Suddenly, she halted and a smile grew on her face.

  
"Hang on girls. Before you go, I was thinking that you might wanna leave here in one of the outfits."

  
We stared back at her. "Um, why?" Sarah asked, eyes narrowed and curious.

  
"Oh, no reason. I just think while you're here, I'd give you a parting gift...just in case you have anything else scheduled today, like a meet-up." She tried to keep a poker face but while she was a fantastic stylist, she wasn't a good liar.

  
"Debbie, who are we meeting?" Beverly asked. Debbie just giggled.

  
"Ooh girls, I've said too much. But, I suggest that you wear something nice when you meet them—I mean—whoops...oh, nevermind! Forget I said anything, I just—If I were you I'd want to look good for them—"

  
"—Them?" I asked, eyes wide.

  
"Whoops," she said, but she was grinning very widely.

  
"We're can't be meeting Horizon already, can we?" Beverly asked.

  
"Who told you that? I certainly didn't," she winked at us, "don't tell Gary I said anything."

  
The three of you laughed at her not-so-subtle antics. "No problem, thanks for the heads up," Beverly said. She was smiling at Debbie, but you didn't miss her eyes quickly slip to yours, silently asking if you were okay. You gave the most slight shake of the head, hoping that Debbie hadn't seen, to let her know not to worry. You'd deal with your convoluted feelings when the time came to.

  
I needn't have worried because Debby was arm deep in the cloth racks again. "Alright, so you want to know what I'd wear today if I were you?"

  
"Why not?" Sarah replied.

  
"Guys, I'm ready now!" You called. You were the last to get dressed behind the intricately-decorated folding screen. Beverly had gone first and had been ecstatic to slip back into that fuschia suit with the pencil skirt (she had ditched the blazer for fear of looking like she was in a business meeting—can't look frumpy in front of the boys—I told her no one would think that when she's wearing hot pink). Sarah had tugged fantastic leopard-skin jacket on over black pants, complete with a wide belt. "Sarah, you look liked you stepped off the runaway!" You had said. She had shrugged but I caught her admiring her fresh look as she walked past the mirror. Speaking of mirrors, there wasn't one behind the screen so you were eager to see yourself. You stepped out. Beverly gasped.

  
"Woah, she's made you sexy!" Sarah chuckled.

  
"Oh my—shit! You look so good!" Beverly spat out, mouth agape.

  
"I don't look that good, it's just a black dress," you remarked, but they started wildly shaking their heads and pushed me in front of the mirror.

  
Even you were stunned.

  
That simple spaghetti strap black dress, now cinched in with a red belt looked a lot less simple than on the rack when it was on your body. It showed a lot of skin, beginning just above your chest and cutting off mid-thigh. There was a lot of leg—Not that you minded, it was just a fact—and your friends were probably right about the sexy thing because even you couldn't look away from your legs. And at the end of them, you wore these amazing black suede pixie boots, slightly heeled and wonderfully comfortable. Oh, those boots were a dream.

  
"We told you, didn't we, guppy." Sarah laughed, mocking my open-mouthed shock.

  
"You look so good in that, oh my God," Beverly added.

  
You came to your senses. "Debbie, you work magic. These are amazing boots. Amazing and comfortable boots."

  
"Actually..." Debbie trailed off, reading my face for apprehension. "The boots are great, that's why I picked them for you...but you've got to do us a favour. Try on the red heels."  
"What's wrong with them, can't I keep them?" You asked, face falling. Debbie quickly shook her head.

  
"No, they're fantastic quality, I promise you, you can have them. It's just that I picked those out for the stage - you'll want to be comfortable up there, so boots are perfect. But girl, you're meeting one of the most famous bands in the world, so I want you to look perfect!"

  
The more she mentioned Horizon, the sicker to the stomach you felt.

  
You brushed it off, clarifying, "So I can wear the whole outfit on stage?"

  
"Yes, off course! It will be comfortable and great for any weather—totally cool in the heat, but you can also pair it with tights, a scarf, a jacket, whatever you want. Look, see here? Great," She said, slipping a leather jacket over your arms. "You'll love all of this once you're up there," Debbie answered.

  
"You better wear it! Save this dress because this is your "guy-magnet" outfit!" Beverly squealed.

  
"More like kill-a-man, damn Y/N!" Sarah added, bursting into deep giggles.

  
"I am so glad you guys have found so much to love here. Here's hoping we work together soon," Debbie smiled purely.

"Absolutely," Sarah shone a smile.

  
As we walked back to the lobby, decked out in your new wardrobe, to wait for Gary's car, Beverly overly-loudly whispered, "I can't believe you're going to wear that in front of Horizon. They're gonna drool."

  
"Oh yeah, they will. And oh, it will be glorious to see a douche see what he wants but can't have...again! Shame you can't walk in on Tim's arm." Sarah grinned, throwing a not-so-subtle jab toward the night of the after-party.

  
You nodded slowly, pulling your frown up into an awkward smile. "...you know your fantasy won't work 'cause I'm going to keep the jacket on, right?

  
They both groaned. "Spoilsport."


End file.
